Poop on me once, shame on you. Poop on me twice, well...

I really wish that I had something else to write about. I wish there was some other exciting story to tell. I wish I was writing to say that 3 of my kids were arrested for smuggling Cuban cigars into the country or something. Or that we caught Tori with a Myspace page or a Twitter account. Or that Rach is pregn---..Oh I couldn't do it. I couldn't even get myself to type it. I mean, seriously, that's not even friggin funny. Oh man. I think I need one of those paper bags. And some aspirin. I mean, the thought of having another baby doesn't really scare me that much. Because really when you think about it, what's the difference between five and six? But the thought of Racheal being pregnant again makes me want to finally take that 40 week vacation to Antarctica that I've never had the chance to take. And I don't mean the resort part of Antarctica. I mean the dark, lonely, sun only comes out for 17 minutes a day, pee freezes before it leaves your body Antarctica. I'm not even kidding. Rach thinks that I don't want to get a vasectomy because I'm scared of hurting my Willy, but the truth is that I'm biding my time before modern medicine figures out a way to shorten the gestation period to a couple of weeks. Anything longer than that and you'd see me clawing my way out of the house like James Caan at the end of Misery. But I love my wife. Trust me. Anyone willing to stick around with even the slightest chance of living with Rachzilla for nine months, must be in true love.

But I digress. And yes this story is about poop again. For the second Sunday in a row, while going to get Jax ready for church, I discovered that he had pooped in his crib. And apparently, I've developed a catch phrase for such an occasion, because before I even opened the door, I could hear Jax yelling, 'Awww, Jeez kid!! Aww Jeez!! Jeez kid!! Aww Jeez!!'. And as soon as I opened the door and saw what was happening, my immediate reaction was, 'Awww, Jeez kid!! What the hell?!?'. This time, though, he didn't throw it anywhere, so I was at least pleased with his progress. No, this time he was standing in the complete opposite corner of his crib from where the giant log was sitting, and he was pointing at it with this completely flabbergasted look on his face. 'Uh Oh! Poo Poo in bed! Poo Poo in bed, Daddy!' He honestly looked utterly confused about how the poop got there. So I started thinking, 'Maybe he didn't do it. Maybe he really doesn't know where it came from. This only happens on Sunday mornings, so maybe this is some sort of message from God. Maybe it is Divine Poop. And if that's the case, I need to go get Rach to come see this heavenly turd. Then maybe she'll clean it up......Naah. Who am I kidding? I'd still be cleaning it up anyway.' But he's not gonna get me again. This Saturday night I'm gonna lock his diaper on with little tiny chain and a padlock, and I'm gonna wrap his pajama pants on with saran wrap coated in vaseline. We'll see how God sends his heavenly poop this time.

And on another note, here's a picture of Jaxon with his girlfriend, Ashley. They're really cute together. They have to hug each other whenever one of them leaves the house. I was talking to Ashley's dad the other day about their young love. He said he's not really concerned right now, but he's gonna wait until they're about 14 or 15, just when things are getting a little TOO serious, and he's gonna sit Jaxon and Ashley down, look them straight in the eye, and tell them about the time Jaxon took a big ol crap on his couch. Well played, sir. Well played.

It's just too bad I don't have those types of clever defenses to use against boys that are after my girls. Oh, wait, no it's not. I've got enough crap to deal with.